Barrow Fields we look sexy, but not like we’re trying too hard. we are, but it’s almost effortless

Also vaguey vague, hurrah!

Going back to the scene of the crime wasn't exactly what he'd meant to do, yet his path was clear. He had wished to cleanse the earth of any sign of struggle but the more he scratched away the further he'd been forced to move, until he was back at the Barrows. The earth was stained with rust red. Upon noticing the grim blooms of color across the soil and sand Firefly had, to some degree, given up. Maybe some of that red was from a natural collection of clay in the dirt - or maybe, as Caiaphas had said, the dragedan was fucked. The trail to Rusalka intersected with this patch of dull crimson-umber, then sloughed towards Drageda. For all that Caiaphas had lost it seemed as if her target had lost far more.

What a fuckin' idiot, he grumbled to himself as he thought of the crone. He understood why Rosalyn was reluctant to help her, feeling that rage second-hand when presented with the half dead woman. It was a rage he'd felt that day during the skirmish. As loyal as he was to Caiaphas, as attached to her son and invested as he'd become, even Firefly could admit that the woman's choice had been a really shitty thing to do. They might've killed that dragedan but they'd kicked a hornet's nest and it wasn't fair, not when Erzulie and Rosalyn were about to get all that they dreamed. That was at risk now, and Firefly couldn't forgive Caiaphas for pulling such a fucked up stunt.

He trailed along the bloodied path until he came to the spot he'd been pinned down, and -- shit, he wasn't alone. All he could smell was the brine of the sea but ahead of him, lingering further along the trail from where he'd paused for his investigation, was a pale shape. All Firefly wanted to do in that moment was lunge along the ridge and grab them, drop them to the dirt, prove himself powerful in this arena where he'd felt so damn powerless — but for all he knew it was just some rogue. From this distance he couldn't tell who they were, so he played it safe and slowly stalked closer instead. The further he went the clearer the image got, and he realized he recognized them. That asshole from the brawl — and he couldn't stop himself from rumbling a warning.